


Proposal.

by archetypals (orphan_account)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2017-12-08 13:17:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/archetypals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He isn’t sure when he decided to do this. </p>
<p>Practically signing his own death certificate, he is; and yet, he doesn’t care.<br/>__________________________________________</p>
<p>In which Mr. Gold gives Henry his dagger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proposal.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a 'what if' that came to mind yesterday morning.   
> What if Mr. Gold gave Henry the dagger?  
> Set at the party that is supposed to be going on for next week's episode.  
> (Originally posted on tumblr; the-dealmaker.)

He isn’t sure when he decided to do this. 

Practically signing his own death certificate, he is; and yet, he doesn’t care.

Rumpelstiltskin lets out a breath that he’s been holding in since this foolish thought came to mind and excuses himself to his office; he can feel the air lighten with his momentary disappearance. It never bothered him before now, never mattered- it amused him, in fact. Ensured him of the power he had, and that everyone knew to be alert, to be wary in the Dark One’s presence.

But now? 

Perhaps his precious power has taken his toll. Perhaps that is the root of his rash, foolish, deadly decision. In his quivering hand, a rectangular box. Fear very nearly consumes him; cowardice almost has Rumpelstiltskin return it to its admittedly poor hiding place. And yet, in his hand it remains. 

A nearly forgotten glass of brandy rests on his work table; he drains it’s contents, if only to moisten his dry mouth. His shoulders slump and terror seeps into his features, break down those walls only because he has a moment alone. Because he has to surrender now, or else he will shatter while presenting the contents of the damned box. 

He knows it is only a trick of the mind, but with each passing moment it becomes heavier, as if willing him to forget this idiotic gesture. But he will not relent. Not this time. He will see this through. 

A light tap on the door, slightly ajar, has him all but jump. He turns to see Henry, cake-laden plate in hand, waiting for admittance into Rumpelstiltskin’s office. “We figured you would want a slice,” he starts, though his brow creases in concern and he steps forward, admittance forgotten. “Mr. Gold, what is it?” 

That is when he realizes that he is a frozen, miserable old man- a man that is gazing at a child with what he can only guess is a mingled expression of horror and anguish; exactly what one would never expect of him. But he recovers, walls rebuilt (if a little weaker) and a small, strained smile crosses his features, eyes unreadable once more. “Ah, it’s nothing, Henry.” He gives the smile a bit more strength before beckoning the boy closer. “Care for a trade?” He makes a vague gesture towards the box in his hand and the plate in Henry’s. 

“That depends on what it is,” Henry replies, though there’s no real suspicion in his tone, just mild curiosity (and concern- not even Rumpelstiltskin can fool him). 

“An item of great importance.” He holds he box out towards him as the boy comes closer. “Utmost, some could say.” Henry tilts his head, hesitating, before taking the box and delivering the slice of cake. 

“It’s not a gift.” It is a light warning, though his expression has seldom been more serious, at least to Henry. The boy opens the box and very nearly drops it in his shock. He stares at the dagger, at the name of the man with his fingers tapping lightly against his cane before him. 

“I don’t— I don’t understand, Mr. Gold.” 

“Consider it a proposal.”

“For?” His eyes meet the pawnbroker’s, confusion mingled with something Gold is unsure of, in wide orbs. Pride, perhaps? But in whom? 

“I’ve, um, come to several conclusions. All of which have led to this; faith in a remarkable young man.” He sets the cake down beside the empty glass before running his index finger along the dagger, a soft sigh escaping him. “You’ve got my life in your hands, Henry. Do with it as you will.” 

And with that, he is, strangely enough, at peace. If only for a moment, the small smile upon his lips is genuine- and he doesn’t know why. 

Nor does he care to know.

“You’re joking… right?” Henry stares at the dagger once again, before replacing the top of the box, and returning his wide-eyed gaze to Gold. “You would never let anyone have this…” The man only chuckles.

“You’re to keep it safe for me. I’m sure you’re capable of that.” It is not a request, not really; and he is not willing to say anything more on the subject. He hopes the boy understands what has been left unsaid.

If he cannot be a better man…

If he needs to be stopped, Henry has that power.

And the child will not abuse it- of that, Rumpelstiltskin is sure. 

“Go back to your party.” He gives another vague smile, eyes on the box. “I expect this will be between us alone?” Henry merely nods, much too dazed… confused, to voice his countless questions. He backs away when Gold waves his hand towards the door. 

“… Enjoy the cake, Mr. Gold,” he murmurs before returning to the others. 

Rumpelstiltskin leans back into the table and lets out another ragged breath.

It’s done. 

… But what, exactly, has he done?


End file.
